


Untitled Ballet AU

by awildesunflower



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Eating Disorders, Evil Alexander Pierce, M/M, Past Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Russian Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, dancer bucky, sick sarah rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildesunflower/pseuds/awildesunflower
Summary: James Barnes was born to do ballet. He met his lifelong friend, Natasha Romanoff when they were three in his first dance class. They are now world-renowned dancers. Bucky is finally choreographing his first piece. He should be happy, but he isn't. Years of rigorous training leaves him broken and there is only so much Nat can do.Steve Rogers is a struggling artist in Brooklyn living with his best friend/ex-boyfriend Sam Wilson. He is broke, but not broke enough to give up his passion. He is taken by the dancers of the Ana Pavlova School and all he wants to do is sit in on one rehearsal and draw them.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been dying to write a ballet au!  
I haven't decided if I will turn this into a full length fic, but if I get some feedback on this first part, I will gladly continue.  
I do plan to go ahead with pretty heavy themes but this chapter is not too explicit.  
I would really appreciate some feedback and ideas! <3

Bucky sat on the floor as he unlaced the once, pink slippers. The toes were stained with blood, the fabric block was tearing, and the satin was shredded. He should get new ones but breaking in a new pair would even more painful.He tugged the rag from his bag and wet it with his water bottle to clean his feet. His toes cracked as he massaged feeling back into his feet. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the mirror. The studio had long been empty and the sun had set hours ago. He wasn’t even sure what time it was at this point but he guessed it must’ve been pretty late since Nat had called him at least three times. He finally picked up his phone, _12:15_. 

> _10:00_ **NAT: James**
> 
> _11:22_ **NAT: Jamie**
> 
> _12:04_ ** NAT: Yasha **

> _12:18 _ **BUCKY: coming. sorry**

He quickly wrapped his feet and packed his bag before he headed out. He locked the studio behind him and walked out into the cool November air. Bucky had stuffed his jacket in his bag without thinking and he didn’t care enough to take it back out. New York weather had nothing on Moscow anyhow. He wrapped his arms around himself as he began walking out of Tribeca and through City Hall Park to the Fulton Street Station. Luckily it was quiet around this time so he didn’t have to deal with tourists nor performers. He untangled his earbuds from his pocket and put them in. He was about to listen to the concerto again, but he switched to the playlist Nat made him instead. The 2 came right on time and, by some miracle, he scored an empty car. Bucky set his bag on the handicap seat and laid across it. He was very well aware of the sanitary horrors, but he was far too exhausted to care. He closed his eyes as indie rock filled his ears. The twenty-minute ride to Church Ave Station went by much faster than normal, probably since he managed to doze off. He woke as the muffled speaker announced his stop. Bucky trudged out of the car and up to prospect park. The pain in his feet finally set in as he approached his building on Caton Ave. He used the last of his energy to turn the key to the door before he slumped inside. 

“Bucky, I told it’s not healthy to be working yourself so much,” Natasha sighed as she sat at the small kitchen table with a glass of water. 

Bucky dropped his bag and slunk over to sit with her. “I know. I just needed to get this routine down,” he made the same excuse as he always did. 

Nat just shook her head, knowing that arguing with him would get them nowhere. “Just drink some water and then get some sleep, please,” she spoke softly with a sad smile. 

Bucky nodded and drank silently. “I’m sorry, Nat,” he murmured and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face. 

She reached forward and brushed his hair out of his face. “You don’t have to apologize. You know I just care about you,” she hummed and patted his cheek affectionately. 

“Thanks,” he whispered with a forced smile. “Goodnight, hun. I’ll see you in the morning.” He went right to his room and collapsed on his bed. He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands down his face. He really should shower, but he didn’t care enough. He stripped down and burrowed under the blankets. The heat wasn’t exactly working, but he expected that considering how much their rent was. His mother did send him a new afghan for his birthday, remembering that her son was never warm enough. He smiled to himself as he thought of her. He hadn’t seen her in almost a year and he missed her terribly. 

Bucky quickly shook the thoughts away as he wrapped the afghan around him. He finally closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. 

~

“Steve, you know I respect the arts, but please, for the love of god, get a job,” Sam groaned as he paid for the utilities for the third month in a row. 

“I know, I know. I’m trying, but I need to build my portfolio before anyone will hire me and I refuse to work for the corporate man,” Steve ranted. “But I have been getting more commissions lately.”

“Fine fine,” Sam sighed. “You’re lucky I’m desperate enough to work for the corporate man,” he teased. 

Steve and Sam were best friends and ex-boyfriends. A lot of people found the latter odd considering they still lived together, but it was a very amicable breakup. Steve wanted to settle down and live the domestic life and Sam just wasn’t about that. They still loved each other very much—that would never change. 

They had been friends ever since high school when Steve got suspended for yelling at the military recruiters. Sam was really considering joining the army because they promised him free school if he just served five years—no big deal, right? Well, Steve knew that it was all bullshit and he just started making a huge scene in the cafeteria. Sam immediately wanted to be best friends with that dumbass. 

Steve was the poster-boy of struggling artists in New York City. He managed to get into The School of Visual Arts right out of high school, but when his mom got sick he had no choice but to drop out. All of his money went to her medical bills and his rent now. The pressure of his economic instability had put a stall on his creativity. He did his commissions mechanically. It was almost like he didn’t enjoy it anymore. He needed a muse. And that was when he discovered the Ana Pavlova School in Tribeca. Steve had always loved the human body and studying its intricacies and he had finally found the perfect subject. He spent hours studying the images from performances and rehearsals, he could only imagine what the dancers look like in real-time. He had to get into a rehearsal. He figured contacting the owner of the school would be a bit too ambitious so he decided he’d have better luck with the new choreographer. 

“Sam, can you double-check my email? I don’t want to sound too desperate or creepy,” Steve asked as he stared at his screen. 

“Dude, it’s going to sound creepy no matter what,” Sam teased as he leaned over his shoulder to read the email. “It sounds sufficiently less creepy now. Go ahead and send it. Maybe this guy will pay you.”

Steve snorted, “Yeah right. What would he pay me for? Do you think the dancers paid Degas?”

> _From: Rogers, Steve G (_ _steverart@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _To: Barnes, James B (_ _barnespavlova@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _Date: Nov 3, 2018, 9:31 AM_
> 
> _Subject: Artist Inquiry _
> 
> _Hello Mr. Barnes,_
> 
> _ My name is Steve Rogers and I am a local artist in Brooklyn. I am a huge fan of the companies work. I am writing to you because I am interested in sitting in on a rehearsal to do some live figure drawings. I assure you I would not interrupt. I just find to sit in rather than watch videos. I am not asking for any payment, just your talent. I have attached some of my sketches below. Thank you for your time. I hope we can work together._
> 
> _ Steve :) _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: depictions of eating disorders

Bucky’s cocoon of blankets was shaken at ten in the morning. He grumbled from beneath the mound as Nat rudely woke him. He whined and kept trying to pull the blankets tighter around him as Nat stripped them off. 

“This is why you shouldn’t be staying out late,” she chided as Bucky finally pried his eyes open. He glared up at her, but her point was proven by the dark circles under his eyes. “Come on. I made breakfast. Nothing too heavy, just some yogurt and granola.”

Bucky’s stomach ached at the thought. He knew Nat cared about him, but he truly wished she would just let him be. He was fine and he hated starting every morning being reminded that he was broken. “Okay. Just give me a minute,” he mumbled, pushing himself out of bed and going to his closet to pull on his sweats rather than eating breakfast half-naked. Nat had the table set with two bowls of greek yogurt, granola, and berries. It was healthy—Bucky knew that—but it was still _something_. He learned a long time ago that he couldn’t get away with not eating in front of Nat, so he sat quietly and ate little spoonfuls and sipped his water. 

“You have an email,” Nat commented as she had glanced at Bucky’s phone while he was sleeping. 

Bucky glanced down at his phone and saw the notification. He opened it, knitting his brows together as he read. “Some artist wants to draw us. Like sit in on a rehearsal,” he murmured. “Sounds weird.”

Nat chuckled softly, “I think it sounds flattering. Come on it would be fun.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “I need to focus. I can’t be distracted. I’m a choreographer now. And on top of that, in case you forgot, _Romeo and Juliet_ opens at the Lincoln Center in a month--in which we are the leads,” he spoke harshly. 

Nat kicked him lightly under the table. “It’s too early for your attitude. I know you are stressed and we have a lot going on, but you need to relax a little. And it’s not like he’s asking you to sit down for ten hours for a portrait. Help out a fellow artist, Buck,” she reasoned. Natasha knew Bucky was a bit edgy when he was anxious. They’d known each other too long for her to be hurt by it anymore. 

Bucky sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Fine. I’ll think about it.” He promptly got up and scurried off to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and began his daily ritual. He turned on his music before he knelt in front of the toilet and took a deep breath. His stomach was already churning so he knew it wouldn’t take long. With his right hand, he took two fingers and shoved them in his mouth, pressing down until he started to throw up his breakfast. The knuckles on his two fingers had long been rough from all the stomach acid—he did this at least twice a day. He quickly flushed the toilet without looking at its contents before he got in the shower. He scrubbed his body thoroughly but he never felt clean. He was disgusted with himself. Even looking down at his own body, he hated what he saw, so he squeezed his eyes shut and finished washing off. He brushed his teeth and fixed his hair, only glancing in the mirror when necessary. He slunk back in his room to get dressed. Still a size medium, he noted as he pulled his shirt on. 

Bucky knew male dancers were supposed to be built and strong, but they were also supposed to be lithe and graceful. It started when he was ten. His first professional instructor, Mrs. Ivanov, weighed him in front of the entire class. She poked and prodded him and pinched every piece of fat. Bucky almost quit that day. His mother used to call him her little dumpling; Bucky made her stop after that. 

> _From: Barnes, James B (_ _barnespavlova@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _To: Rogers, Steve G (_ _steverart@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _Date: Nov 3, 2018, 10:47 PM_
> 
> _RE: Artist Inquiry _
> 
> _You can come to a Romeo & Juliet rehearsal whenever this week. Times are from 10am-6pm in studio B at The Ana Pavlova school in Tribeca. Please do not disrupt the rehearsal. The show opens in a month. Also, don’t call me Mr. Barnes. It’s Bucky. _
> 
> _Sent from iPhone_

~

Every Sunday Steve made sure to visit his mother in the hospital. The subway ride from Brooklyn to Mount Sinai Hospital was nearly an hour on Sundays. He got up at eight and shoved his sketchbook and pencils in his bag to spend the day at the hospital. Before he saw his mom, he always stopped at Joe and the Juice to get breakfast for the two of them. She loved the avocado sandwiches and Steve splurged on the protein shakes for himself. He walked into her room with the bag of food and a smile.

“Hey, ma. How are you doing?” He asked as he pulled the chair to her bedside.

Sarah smiled weakly, her lips cracking from how dry they were. “Hi, honey. I feel better than I did last week. What did you bring me?”

Steve hated seeing his mother like this. It seemed that every week she was growing thinner and the doctors still didn’t know what was wrong. He still refused to show her how terrified he was. He needed to stay strong for her, so he never let his smile falter. “Well I got you the turkey avocado sandwich and a strawberry and banana smoothie,” he hummed as he opened the bag and placed her breakfast on the little table. He moved her bed up so she could sit up and folded the thick blanket down. “And I got myself a yogurt bowl with a chocolate protein shake.”

“You look so big,” she smiled and grabbed his hand. “I remember when you were my little baby.”

Steve told her about his week as they ate. He spared the details of his financial issues. She didn’t need to be worrying about him now. Sarah could only eat a little. Her body had a hard time taking in nutrients, but Steve knew that she was really trying. Sarah Rogers has always been a fighter and no mystery disease was going to stop her. Steve knew that he got his resilience from her. 

“Show me what you’ve drawn. I need some new art to hang on my wall. You know, my nurse asked me who drew all of them. She wants to buy from you,” Sarah raved about her son’s work. She had always supported Steve’s dreams. Even when he was little and still drawing stick figures she told him that he belonged in the Met. There was no doubt that Steve pursued his dream thanks to her support. 

Steve took out his sketchbook and leaned closer to show her all the drawings he had done. As she delicately flipped through the pages, Steve checked his phone for any messages. He smiled when he saw that the dancer had emailed him back. He quickly opened it and read it. Well, _Bucky_ sound quite arrogant, but it could be that he was misreading the tone. At least he agreed to let Steve sit in. 

“What are you smiling about, dear? Got a special someone I don’t know about?” Sarah chuckled, looking up from the book.

Steve blushed softly and shook his head. “No no. Not even close. I asked a famous dancer if I could sit in on a rehearsal to draw him. He just said yes. This guy is really talented, ma.”

“Is he cute?” She teased.

“Well…” Steve murmured and the blush spread across his face. He googled Bucky and showed her a picture. “Yeah. He’s gorgeous actually. But way out of my league. He’s a professional. Oh and he’s Russian.”

“No one is out of your league. He’s handsome. I can see why you want to draw him,” she nodded. “When are you going to meet him?”

“I’ll probably go tomorrow. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the next Degas,” Steve chuckled. 

“You joke about it now but I’ve always told you, you’ll be in the Met one day,” she said sincerely. 

Steve nodded and smiled. “I know, ma. Now get some rest.” He lowered her bed back down and rolled her blankets back up. He stayed by her side as she slept. He worked on some more sketches until the sun began to set. He didn’t bother waking her up as he packed his bag. He knew she was exhausted. She’d have to sleep about every two hours. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left a sketch of the view from her window on the table before he got up to leave. 

By the time Steve finally left the hospital, the sun was setting. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten real food since breakfast (the hospital cafeteria food didn’t count as real in his book).

> _6:06_ **STEVE: I’m on the way home. Do you want me to pick up dinner?**
> 
> _6:07_ **SAM: If that means you’re paying, then absolutely. Mamma Kim’s. Sesame Chicken with an egg roll**
> 
> _6:15_ **STEVE: Got it. Give me an hour **

As Steve laid down for the night with a full belly, he took out his laptop to respond to Bucky. Even though it was clear that the dancer didn’t care for formalities, Steve still wanted to be professional—and “sent from iPhone” was certainly the antithesis of that. 

> _From: Rogers, Steve G (_ _steverart@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _To: Barnes, James B (_ _barnespavlova@gmail.com_ _)_
> 
> _Date: Nov 4, 2018, 9:58 PM_
> 
> _RE: Artist Inquiry _
> 
> _I will be there tomorrow morning at ten. Thank you for allowing me to sit in, Bucky._
> 
> _Steve :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I am thinking of titling this Dancing With Degas
> 
> As always, I am open to suggestions and feedback !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait. Finals week killed me.  
Anyways, Steve and Bucky finally meet

“So is he coming today?” Natasha asked as she and Bucky walked into the studio.

Bucky unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and shook his coat off. “Yeah, I guess. Better today since Pierce won’t be here,” he sighed. “Just Andrea. The ensemble better get here on time.”

“You’re so grumpy in the mornings,” Nat teased, ruffling Bucky’s hair and kissing his cheek. “I bet you’ll love being the apple of an artist’s eye. I know you like the attention.”

Bucky chuckled softly as they walked up to the studio. Andrea was there already set up. She gave them a curt nod, leaving them alone to get ready. Bucky went to the dressing room to dress out in his nude tights and shorts with a tank-top. Most instructors made him keep his top off to “better examine him”, but Andrea understood that it made him uncomfortable. He went to the middle of the floor to begin stretching out. The rest of the cast began filing in as they warmed-up. Suddenly a new face walked into the studio. A new face with blonde hair, blue eyes, and blonde shoulders. Bucky was definitely intrigued. 

“And who are you?” Andrea asked, crossing her arms as she approached the stranger.

Steve stuck out his hand with a wide smile. “I’m Steve Rogers. I’m an artist. I spoke to Bucky about sitting in to sketch. I hope it’s okay. I’ll just sit in the back,” he explained. 

So this was the artist Bucky had been emailing back-and-forth. He walked over to Steve, looking him over. “I’m Bucky. It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I will be very busy, but you are welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

Steve’s lips parted as he looked at Bucky. He was handsome in pictures, but in person, he was even more enchanting. He had big steely eyes and sharp bone structure. “Oh hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m a huge fan of yours. Thank you for letting me come,” Steve greeted and shook the dancer’s hand. 

Bucky smiled curtly back. “Yeah. Well get comfortable,” he nodded before going back to warming up. He didn’t need any distractions.

“He’s cute,” Nat whispered with a smile. Bucky just rolled his eyes and shook his head. He needed to stay focused and he wasn’t going to let Nat nor some hunk of meat stop him. Finally, Andrea called everyone to attention and thee ensemble got into position. Bucky and Nat were on opposite sides of the room. The Dance of the Knights wasn’t terribly complicated, but a lot of people were on stage and they had to get the staging right. Bucky pulled on a thin paper mask over his eyes to get used to dancing with it on. Steve frowned slightly as his view of Bucky’s eyes was blocked. He could spend hours just drawing those eyes. He halted his sketch of the dancer’s face and started doing what he actually came to do. He really tried to focus on each individual dancer but his eyes just kept wandering back to Bucky. He was so slender but clearly exhibited strength. Steve’s calves just hurt watching him do that weird Russian squat thing (he should probably start learning the proper terms). 

Two hours flew by before he even knew it and Andrea was releasing them for a lunch break. Bucky’s thin frame was wavering as he walked over to Natasha. The flash of worry across her face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. His brows knitted together as he looked between the two. She was whispering, something in Russian he presumed, and Bucky was shaking his head. Steve got up from his spot and went over to them with his charming smile.

“Hey. I just wanted to say that you two are even more amazing in person. I wish I had more to show you, but so far I just have some crude sketches,” Steve rambled with an awkward chuckle. 

Nat plastered on an actor’s smile while Bucky just looked down. “Thank you. We’ll be moving onto a more exciting piece after the break,” she said politely.

Up close, Steve could see how pale Bucky had turned. He was dripping in sweat and his eyes looked vacant. “Do you guys want me to grab you some food? I was going to get a sandwich down at the deli. I could get you a salad or something,” he offered.

“We’re alright. Thank you,” Nat smiled while Bucky still just stood there. 

Steve was obviously concerned, but he didn’t want to overstep. He politely excused himself before stepping out to get his lunch. 

Once the artist left, Natasha pulled Bucky to their dressing room and sat him down. “Yasha, look at me,” she said firmly.

Bucky slowly lifted his eyes from the ground to look at her. “Please don’t yell. You know I hate when you yell,” he whimpered, almost like a wounded puppy. 

Nat sighed and scrubbed her hand down her face. “I’m not yelling. I’m not mad, hun. I’m worried. This was an easy rehearsal and you’re already about to pass out,” she spoke softly.

Bucky chewed his dry lips and scratched the inside of his wrist. “I’m sorry,” he repeated like he always did. He grabbed his water bottle and took small sips. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need help. I’m trying to help you, but I know it’s not working. You are so talented and gorgeous no matter—“

“Stop!” Bucky shouted. His hands were shaking and some color managed to rush back to his face. “Just stop it. You say the same fucking thing every single week. I’m not dead yet. And I’m still the fucking lead of the show.”

Nat just looked at Bucky with sad eyes. She got up and went to get her lunch since there was no point in arguing anymore. It would just make him resent her and he’d put more walls up. She just hoped that maybe one day he’d go get some real help...before something bad happened. She watched as Bucky excused himself and walked out, probably to get some fresh air. 

Bucky sat on the stairs with his head in his hands, lightly tugging at his hair. His stomach churned even though there was nothing in it. He just wanted to go back home and curl up in bed. 

“Hey, Bucky. Are you alright?” Steve asked as he walked up the stairs, stopping next to Bucky. 

Bucky jumped slightly and looked up at Steve. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a breather,” he muttered.

“I understand. Would you mind having some company?” he offered as a friendly gesture.

Bucky tried to force a polite smile but it just looked sad. “I’d rather be alone. Thanks.”

Steve just nodded and walked off to eat by himself. He felt so drawn to Bucky. It wasn’t just his talent, it was something deeper. It was as though Bucky were a puzzle box. And his eyes were so sad. Steve wanted to know everything about him, but it was clear that Bucky had no intention of letting anyone in. 

As everyone reconvened for the last half of rehearsal, Steve went back to his post in the back. They were moving on to a much more complex dance in which Bucky was the focus. At first, he moved gracefully and effortlessly jumped through the air, but then his breathing became ragged and his landings were shaky and there was a hazy look in his eyes. Steve wanted to jump up and shout for them to stop, but he knew that it wasn’t his place. Nat cast a concerned glance at Bucky and finally got the instructor to pause. Without a word, Nat took Bucky’s arm and walked him out of the room. And before Steve’s brain could rationalize his thoughts, he got up and went after them. 

“Hey, is everything alright? Does he need to go to the hospital?” Steve asked Nat worriedly. 

Nat sighed and shook her head. “No, Steve. Please just leave us.”

Bucky glared at Steve the best that he could in his exhausted state. “I think you should go. And don’t tell anyone about this,” he hissed before slumping back against the wall. 

Steve stepped back and nodded. He overstepped and Bucky had every right to be upset. He grabbed his sketchbook and said a small thanks before he left the studio expecting that he would never be allowed back. 

_From: Rogers, Steve G (_ _steverart@gmail.com_ _)_

_To: Barnes, James B (_ _barnespavlova@gmail.com)_

_Date: Nov 5, 2018, 12:54 AM_

_Subject: sorry_

_I realized I overstepped today. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I promise I won’t spread anything about you. I was wondering if maybe I could just draw you. I mean whenever you’re free. I completely understand if you never want to see me again though. _

_Steve _


End file.
